


Hungarian Symphony, 1938

by Kate_Marley



Series: 1938 [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Classical Music, F/M, Historical, Musical References, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 19:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2320841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Marley/pseuds/Kate_Marley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Austria thinks of Hungary while playing the piano in Germany’s house, where he is forced to live since March. Or: The fanfic in which Austria plays Mussorgsky’s ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’ (among other pieces). Of course, Prussia also makes his appearance.<br/>More light-hearted sequel to ‘Ambiguity tolerance, 1938’ (but you don’t have to read the two of them in the ‘correct’ order).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hungarian Symphony, 1938

Dewdrops on a single rosebud  
This purity of rain  
Reminds me of the moment I left her  
Kisses filled with pain  
 _~ Leaves’ Eyes: Elegy ~_

**_Allegro ma non troppo, un poco maestoso (Opening Movement)_ **

Rain was dripping at the window in rhythm with Austria’s fingers, pressing the keys for the first ‘Promenade’ of Modest Mussorgsky’s ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’. From time to time, when the sky was dark and gloomy, he got in the mood to play programme music by the Russian romantic composer. Most people probably preferred the orchestra arrangement by Maurice Ravel, but Austria also loved the original piano composition. He thought it was raw and wild and utterly beautiful, like a certain warrioress he knew.

When the ‘Gnome’ appeared, he thought of a fierce Magyar who had always thought she was a boy. Who had said so often she never wanted to wear a dress that it had come as a genuine shock when he first saw her in one. Who had reacted to his speechless stare with an irritated furrow of her brows and said _I knew it wouldn’t suit me. I’m so sorry, Mr Austria._ He had answered no, it suited her very well — in fact, it suited her so well that it had taken his breath away.

During the second promenade and ‘The Old Castle’, Austria thought of a tomboy in a dress who had tried her best at playing the docile girl she never was and never would be — until she realised it wasn’t necessary to be docile anyway. Realised her people as well as Austria loved and respected her as a fierce fighter. And if her enemies feared her, so much the better.

His thoughts throughout the third promenade and the ‘Tuileries’ were filled with memories of Hungary. Hungary in the kitchen, wielding a frying pan like a sword. Hungary on the battlefield, wielding a sword like it weighed no more than a frying pan. Hungary sitting next to him, head rested against his shoulder. Hungary standing right behind him when he played the piano, listening intently, changing music sheets whenever necessary. Hungary standing right there by the door—

His fingers stopped. No. This couldn’t be. He had to be dreaming.

He blinked.

Nothing changed. There she stood.

‘Eliza—’

He choked. She flung herself at him.

**_Adagio assai (Marcia funebre)_ **

‘I can’t stay long’, Hungary whispered. After embracing Austria fiercely, she had slung her arms around his waist and rested her head in his lap. ‘I just sneaked out of the conference room. Don’t know what they’re talking about now.’ She paused, thinking. ‘Don’t know if I _want_ to know either.’

‘I know’, Austria replied sadly. He tangled his long, slender pianist’s fingers in her thick auburn hair, lightly stroking her head. _I have no words to tell you how much I love you._

Hungary’s green eyes locked with his. ‘Will you play for me?’

‘Of course I will, _Liebling_.’ Austria smiled. ‘Is there anything in particular you would like to hear?’

She did not let go. She knew it constricted his movements a little, but she did not want to stop the embrace. ‘Just play on’, she said.

He untangled his fingers from her hair and rested them on the keys. Then, he started with the first notes of the Mussorgsky’s ‘Cattle’, _Bydło_.

No, he pondered, he did not want to play about a Polish ox cart. But he wanted to improvise on it and the following promenade.

The melody grew darker, gloomier. His right hand was busy with the low-pitched notes. Then, his left hand joined in with a melody, light and delicate. At first, the melody was soft, _piano_ , but gradually, it grew louder, swelling, a grand _crescendo_. The gloomy melody always lurked in the background, but the light and cheerful one gained dominance. — Yes, although there would ever be darkness in this world, there was always also light. He looked down at his guiding light, his Star of the East who had turned her face to him with closed eyes. _I may have no words to tell you how much I love you,_ he thought. _But I have music_.

The piece finished in a grand _fortissimo_. Elizaveta opened her eyes. There were tears clinging to the back of her eyelids. She had understood. Roderich pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. Then, he drew back and looked at her. Elizaveta’s eyes fluttered shut again. He brushed his lips against hers, ever so softly, a chaste kiss. He felt her breath catch, and her lips parted. His breathing became faster. As his tongue slipped into her mouth, the kiss grew all but chaste. Both of them were breathing heavily now.

‘What the heck are you two doing there?’

Elizaveta growled in frustration as she broke the kiss. ‘What the _heck_ do you think it looks like, Prussia-boy?’

‘Making out on the piano bench?’ Prussia knit his brows together.

‘We might, if it weren’t for you’, Elizaveta replied, scowling back.

‘Sorry, Germany just asked me to bring you back to the meeting room. Apparently, your presence is needed.’ For Prussia, the wording sounded awkward — but then, he was probably quoting his brother.

Elizaveta replied with a decidedly unwomanly Hungarian curse. She slipped from Roderich’s lap and walked to Prussia, poking his side. ‘Just a little warning, Prussia-boy: Don’t you _dare_ bully my Roddy. Believe me, I _will_ find out.’

Then, she turned back to Roderich. They did not speak, but their feelings were plainly written across their faces. She flung herself at him again. He stood up and caught her. Elizaveta drew back and looked into his eyes. ‘We’ll survive’, she said. ‘We’ll see each other again. Promise me.’

‘I— I don’t think I can—’

‘No. Promise me’, she insisted fiercely. ‘I don’t care if it turns out to be a lie.’

He looked back into her eyes and understood. ‘I promise’, he replied.

‘You know, I believe in you.’ She smiled.

Then she was gone.

**_Allegro vivace (Scherzo)_ **

Austria felt ridiculously happy. Yes, he had ceased to be a separate state, but _Hungary believed in him_ , and what else did he need? A whole bunch of butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He felt like crying out, like dancing — yes, even with Prussia. Instead, he sat back on his piano bench and started to play another musical improvisation. This time, it was on ‘The Ballet of Unhatched Chicks in their Shells’, still from ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’, one of the craziest and most exuberant pieces he knew. He wove in some elements of the piano part of George Gershwin’s ‘Rhapsody in Blue’, turning the chicken ballet into something jazzy. It sounded like ‘Mussorgsky goes Gershwin, Frolicking on the Piano’, and he loved it.

‘For goodness’ sake, Austria, stop it!’, cried Prussia over the music. ‘That’s jazz! You know very well you mustn’t play this!’

Like many forms of modern art, the National Socialist government also considered jazz ‘degenerate’, _entartete Kunst_. Austria couldn’t care less, but Prussia, ever the duteous and obedient military power, feared repressions.

‘Why should I?’, Austria called out defiantly, never ceasing to play.

‘Please, Austria’, Prussia asked, almost begging, ‘how can I make you stop this?’

Austria considered. At last, he said: ‘Play one of the flute sonatas of your Fritz with me, will you?’

‘All right, all right, I will’, Prussia answered, a little too fast. ‘But _please_ , stop playing this _now_.’

‘Always at your service!’ Austria switched to Mussorgsky’s ‘Hut on Fowl’s Legs’ without improvising on it. ‘Now go fetch your flute.’ _If I had known how easy it is to make you play with me, I would have gone for jazz much earlier,_ he thought.

‘Really, little master, that piece you’re playing now doesn’t sound less weird’, Prussia remarked, leaving.

Austria laughed over the music.

**_Allegro molto (Finale)_ **

When Prussia returned with his transverse flute and some sheets of music, Austria was playing the final notes of ‘The Great Gate of Kiev’.

‘Now that sounds grand’, Prussia observed. ‘I like that one.’

‘Same composer as before.’ Austria smirked. It was quite fascinating to see how programme music could sometimes work even for those who didn’t know what a certain piece was supposed to be about.

‘Whatever.’ Prussia wanted to put some sheets on the piano’s music rack.

‘Wait’, said Austria. ‘We can’t use the piano with your transverse flute. Its tuning is different from that of a baroque instrument.’ He turned to the other end of the room, grinning. ‘But I’ve arranged for them to deliver my old harpsichord from Vienna.’

‘Whatever’, Prussia repeated, sounding a bit irritated. Nevertheless, he obediently placed the sheets onto the harpsichord, and Austria switched places. Then, Prussia set the flute to his lips and started to play, accompanied by the harpsichord.

In comparison to the ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’, which were particularly difficult to play on a piano, the harpsichord part of Frederick’s music was easy. Austria relaxed and enjoyed listening to Prussia’s playing of the flute. _You know, I believe in you_ , Hungary’s voice sang in the back of his head, in tune with the beautiful melody from Prussia’s flute.

_What a wonderful day_ , Austria thought.

This is my elegy  
Do you know what I feel?  
This is my elegy  
Do you believe it’s real?  
Will I hold you in my arms again?  
 _~ Leaves’ Eyes: Elegy ~_  


**Author's Note:**

> In order to realise that the captions actually relate to the story, it is probably necessary to understand what these **Italian tempo indications** literally mean:  
>  Allegro ma non troppo, un poco maestoso = Merry, but not too much, a bit majestic  
> Adagio assai (Marcia funebre) = Very slowly (Funeral March) — well, I took it in quite a different direction  
> Allegro vivace (Scherzo) = Vividly merry (Frolicking)  
> Allegro molto (Finale) = Very merry (Final)
> 
> The captions are taken from the four movements of **Symphony No. 3 in E flat major op. 55 ‘Eroica’** (1802-1803) by **Ludwig van Beethoven** (1770-1827). Beethoven, one of the main composers of the First Viennese School (German _Wiener Klassik_ ), was born in Bonn, which became Prussian only after the Vienna Congress, in 1815, so Prussia cannot claim Beethoven, unlike Germany in the 29th episode of Hetalia World Series. Austria, of course, insists Beethoven was Austrian, as he lived and worked in Vienna most of his life. (Germany has a similar argument with England about the nationality of Georg Friedrich Händel / George Frederick Haendel.) Beethoven is said to have dedicated his third symphony to Napoléon at first — it was called ‘Sinfonia grande, intitolata Bonaparte’ then —, but to have reconsidered after Napoléon proclaimed himself emperor in 1804, calling it ‘Heroic symphony, composed in order to celebrate the memory of a great man’ instead. Austria’s _Eroica_ is Hungary.
> 
> **Further Italian tempo indications:**  
>  piano = ‘soft’, ‘quiet’  
> crescendo = ‘swelling, increasing in force’  
> fortissimo = ‘loudest’ (i.e. ‘very loud’)
> 
> **Translations of German terms:**  
>  Liebling = ‘darling’  
> entartete Kunst = ‘degenerate art’
> 
> **Modest Mussorgsky** (1839-1881) was a Russian, **George Gershwin** (1898-1937) an American composer and pianist. In his ‘Rhapsody in Blue’ (1924), Gershwin combines elements of classical music with jazzy influences. Mussorgsky’s ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’ (Картинки с выставки) were composed for piano in 1874 and arranged for orchestra by various composers, but the version of **Joseph-Maurice Ravel** (1875-1937) is the most popular one — even more so than the original piano arrangement.
> 
> The **Star of the East** actually is the Star of Bethlehem, according to Matthew 2:2 the guiding light leading the Biblical Magi to Bethlehem. — Hungary, as a geographical entity, is located to the east of Austria.
> 
> For further notes on the ‘Anschluss’, Frederick (‘Fritz’) the Great, transverse flutes, and baroque tuning, please refer to the notes section of ‘Ambiguity tolerance, 1938’.
> 
> ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
> 
> German translation: <http://www.fanfiktion.de/s/54231cdf00042e2721bed2da/1/Ungarische-Sinfonie-1938>


End file.
